I Know
by Yukitoshuu Itsumademo
Summary: Eiri has his moods...and Shuichi knows each of them quite intimately...


I'd like to thank the wonderful bakayaronna for the inspiration spark for this piece (livejournal; Eiri's foot in Shu's face horny Eiri foreplay) :P  
And of course xXVatesXx for having helped me wrap my conscience around Eiri and Shu so I can understand what makes them tick, and for telling me my writing doesn't suck. :P  
And yes, I purposefully lowercased the second word in the title...

* * *

_I know…_  
by Yukitoshuu Itsumademo

"Tadaima," I called and shucked off my shoes, anxious to see what mood my Yuki-bunny was in today. Yoshiki-san had taken Riku-kun to America for the summer, so Eiri and I had the house alone, to ourselves, to scream in ecstasy as loud as we wanted before the neighbors call the cops.

I know Eiri like the front and back of my own hand; he would call me an unoriginal dumbass for saying so. I also know Eiri's cock better than my own, and to that, he would say, "now that's what I like to hear…"

Eiri has these moods he falls into, and I've come to embrace each of them intimately.

When he's hard at work, days away from a deadline and plucking at his laptop, I can usually lure him away with the promise of some wild sex, but unless I have the energy to worship his body with sexual favors, I'll let him work. He won't leave his office for the rest of the night, and he'll finish his novel by its deadline, and he'll acquire the desperate need to possess me, and I won't be able to walk straight for a week.

He likes to make me beg sometimes, especially when he's jealous or terrified he might lose me. I know he's barely holding himself back when he kicks me in the face, punches me, like he's testing my threshold, daring me to leave. I've gotten close, but I haven't left, and I don't think I could. Instead I tackle him to the floor and beg him to fuck me, to fill his hole, fill my body with his cum. I don't think he's content until he's pounded every last drop he has in my ass, like he wants my body to pull him in and never let go.

Sometimes, though Eiri would shoot me if I told anyone, I'll come home to find him neck-deep in a warm bath. His eyes will be closed as his ears drink in the soft Buddhist flute melody, and cherry blossom and rose petals will float on the water, softening his already precious skin. The flowers along with his natural heady scent will be all the allure I need to become entranced by his sudden romantic streak, and the rest of the night will be gentle brushes of hands and lips, and I will fall in love all over again.

Eiri also has his BDSM streaks, and when we're together in the right state-of-mind, I welcome this, tongue heavy with saliva. I'm always hungry for Eiri, and we'll never get close enough that our bodies mesh into one, but during the rare times he allows me to dominate him, the power drives me higher than any drug, any concert, any double platinum record. We both are masochists; we both are sadists, and possess a craving to own the other, and it's something only I will ever know about him, and I'll take it with no regard to my grave.

Though Seguchi-san was there the night Eiri killed Kitazawa-san, though Tatsuha and Mika were there when Eiri came home to Japan, I am the only one Eiri trusts when he's consumed with the memories of murdering his first love. I know he's cheated on me in the past, when I've been gone on tour and Eiri's drowned in his guilt, but now he trusts me enough to fly out to the city BAD LUCK is touring, so I can punish him.

No, I don't punish him; it's more like an exorcism. He needs this, and I want him to forget Kitazawa-san, and it works, and he trusts me to take care of him when he's so vulnerable, to take out the stain in his psyche that has become like the most delicate of kimono silks.

And tonight, he doesn't return my greeting, half-assed as it usually sounds, and I know something is wrong. He'll be in the bedroom, and, yes, there he is, curled on his side, his back facing the doorway I enter. He's been crying, I can tell, though he'll never admit it.

Tonight won't be passionate, or wild, and we won't have sex. Instead, I'll hold him until we both fall asleep, and he'll let me hold him, because he loves me, and he won't fall asleep until I've kissed his forehead, and with a tender tongue tell him I love him. Simple as that: three words, I love you. Maybe I'll add his name to the end, though I won't need to. He'll know I only love him, and I know he won't fall asleep until I've told him, and in this way, he'll have told me he loves me too.

* * *

Thanks for reading. Let me know with a review if:  
a) You enjoyed this piece.  
b) It totally sucked ass.  
c) Anything else.


End file.
